


pretty band-aids on a sinking ship

by owilde



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Diego Hargreeves, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, M/M, Pre-Canon, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18781531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: Diego stared at the form of his unconscious brother, lying on his side on Diego’s bed with an open wound bleeding through his badly bandaged forehead, and wondered what he’d done to deserve this.





	pretty band-aids on a sinking ship

**Author's Note:**

> This is like... pre-canon, but also changes the canon a tiny bit? Not in any super meaningful way, though. I just wanted to write about Diego to be honest dfghjk

Diego’s life had always been tainted with blood. He’d been born into it, and raised among sharp edges and cutting words – it was a certain kind of coldness and callousness that Diego was awfully familiar with, by now. It was depressing, and fucked up, just like everything about the dysfunctional disaster affair named the Hargreeves family was.

He hated it. Resented the life he’d been carved into.

And yet.

And yet, he still couldn’t help but care.

Diego stared at the form of his unconscious brother, lying on his side on Diego’s bed with an open wound bleeding through his badly bandaged forehead, and wondered what he’d done to deserve this. Maybe he’d been a real shit person in some previous life.

It had been some hours since he’d found Klaus stumbling along an alleyway a rock’s throw away from Diego’s makeshift apartment, bleeding profusely and looking more confused than usual, which was an achievement in itself, before passing out against a garbage can. Diego had scooped him up after a few minutes of contemplation – he loved Klaus, but Klaus tended to bring trouble with him, and Diego had been doing well on the whole staying-out-of-it front.

Fuck that, then, he supposed. His safe house was compromised, his _focus_ was compromised, given that his brother was bleeding out, apparently, because the blood wasn’t stopping and Klaus still wasn’t showing any signs of coming to – it was all out the window, now, and this left Diego pacing back and forth in front of the bed, twirling a knife in one hand.

Hospital, out of question. They’d get the cops involved, and even if Diego himself wasn’t tied up in all kinds of questionable conflicts of interest and whatnots with them, it was more likely than not that Klaus was hooked up on at least ten different chemicals right now, and he never had done too well with being locked up.

Luther was on the fucking _moon_. Allison was busy being in the spotlight. Vanya was who knew where, doing who knows what, and Five was gone, Ben was gone, Father had been gone before he’d even taken them in, had emotionally checked out at the tender age of zero, probably, and Mom…

She didn’t need to know about what kind of life her children were leading. It’d be better that way.

Which left Diego once again by himself in the leadership position. Which, fine – but then also, Klaus. Bleeding out. Ruining his sheets, too. Still unconscious.

Diego pursed his lips and stopped his pacing, staring at Klaus with a deep frown.

Fuck it all. His life was a fucking Divine Comedy in three parts, and he'd reached purgatory.

He was going to have to call Robert.

The line rang three times before a distracted voice told him, “Robert Hawks, speaking.”

Diego pressed his eyes shut, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

Robert went silent for a few surprised seconds, then huffed a laugh. “Shit. Diego?”

“Yeah.” Diego picked up a knife and flicked his wrist, watching it lodge into the wall. “Look, I’m sorry about last week. I was going to call you, get some coffee as an apology or some shit like that, but… something came up.”

“Good something, or bad something?”

The corner of his mouth twitched down. Diego threw another knife. “ _Urgent_ something. I need a nurse.”

He could picture the raised brow and shit-eating grin without having to see either. “Oh? _That_ kind of something?”

“Fuck you,” Diego said, his voice lacking any real heat. “It’s my… it’s a friend. He’s been hurt. I can’t take him to a hospital. Can you help?”

“… Ah.” Robert cleared his throat – Diego threw a third knife, too forceful. He hit the bull's eye, steel buried point blank in the middle of red, and the board fell to the floor with clatter. “At your place?”

Diego bit back the _unfortunately_ which crossed his mind. “Yeah, my place. I’ll meet you out front.” After a moment of hesitation, during which Diego thought through all the choices in his life that had led him to this fucking moment, he added, “Thank you. And you might wanna bring booze, if you find any.”

“For disinfectant?”

_I wish_. “For drinking.”

“For you?”

Diego glanced at Klaus. “I really fucking wish. Just… get over here. I’ll make it worth your trouble.”

Robert sighed over the line, but it sounded more amused than anything. “Yeah, yeah. Just get me that coffee and we’re even. Be there in twenty.”

He hung up. Diego pocketed his phone, trying carefully to count to ten. One. Klaus was his brother. Two. Diego was a good… No, he wasn’t, he really, really wasn’t, and it was their Father’s fault, fucking bastard – one. Two. Three. Four. Four – Klaus.

Diego checked the time and pulled up a chair next to the bed. From what he gathered, someone had decked Klaus on the head, hard, judging by the bleeding. His nose looked somewhat wonky, but not broken. It was bleeding rivers down to Klaus’ dry, cracked lips. He was sporting a shiner on his left eye, but it had to be at least a few days old.

Diego moved his eyes lower, to Klaus’ bandaged fingers and the hickey on his neck.

“What the fuck have you been up to, brother?” Diego mumbled.

Klaus, even unconscious, seemed to be raising a phantom middle finger at him in response.

Robert showed up fifteen minutes later with a first-aid kit in tow, a bottle of vodka and a backpack filled with whatever essentials he’d been able to scoop up from around his apartment. Diego nodded at him in greeting once he saw him approaching, and Robert lifted a hand back at him.

They walked over to Diego’s room in silence. Robert walked close enough for their arms to press together – Diego knocked Robert’s shoulder with his, shooting him a small smile. Half an apology, half a real greeting. Robert accepted it with a nod and a grin.

Diego let Robert in first, pointing him towards the bed. Whatever shitty joke Robert had been about to crack died on his lips once he saw Klaus. He frowned, turning back to Diego, who nodded his chin towards Klaus as if to say, _well, go on_.

Robert set the first-aid kit and the bottle down on the chair Diego had left vacant, dropping his backpack next to them on the floor. “So, what the fuck happened to him?” His voice was casual, but it reeked of false confidence.

Diego leaned against a shelf, arms crossed. “I don’t know. I found him like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Robert carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandages around Klaus’ head. “I see you tried to do… something, here.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “I had to stop the bleeding.”

“I know,” Robert assured him. “It’s not bad. Why don’t you, uh – why don’t you come over here. You’ll be my assistant nurse for this one.”

“Kinky,” Diego muttered, but went over anyway, crouching beside Robert. “What d'you need?”

Robert had moved on to inspecting Klaus’ bleeding nose. “Rinse a washcloth with hot water, please, and bring it over.”

“And where the fuck do I get a washcloth from?”

Robert paused to give him a slightly incredulous look. “You don’t have one?” At Diego’s look, he rolled his eyes. “Why would you. Check the backpack.”

Diego returned soon with the dripping washcloth, and handed it over to Robert, who began wiping gently at Klaus’ forehead, cleaning the wound. With most of the blood gone, it looked ghastlier than before. Diego stared at it with a passive face, wondering again just what the fuck kind of shit Klaus was involved with.

Robert hummed; Diego frowned. “What?”

“Might need stitches,” Robert told him. “There’s Neosporin in the kit, if you could. And the polypropylene suture kit, too.”

Diego wandered off while Robert worked, sharpening knives in the corner. Robert shot him a look from where he was stitching Klaus’ head, lifting a brow. Somehow, he and Eudora always managed to make Diego feel guilty with the smallest of mannerisms.

“What’s up with his nose?” Diego asked, in lieu of having to explain himself.

Robert focused his attention back on Klaus. “Well, he’s been punched, that’s for sure. Pretty hard, I’m guessing. Maybe some small fractures, but nothing’s broken, fortunately.” He paused, and Diego saw him knot the final stitch. “Not sure about the head wound. Hit with a heavy object, maybe? Knocked against a wall?”

Diego kept staring at Klaus. He looked paler than usual, disappearing into the sheets. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Robert agreed. He sighed. “So, you wanna tell me what’s actually going on?”

Diego averted his eyes. “I already told you.”

“Mhm,” Robert hummed. “Your friend.” He wiped Klaus’ nose clean of blood and put a few band-aids there. “You don’t have those. Friends.”

“I’ve got this one,” Diego protested. Weakly. He was slipping.

“Uh-huh. Or…” Robert brushed his fingers against the hickey, his frown deepening. “He’s something else. You pay him well?”

Diego whipped his head to look at Robert, equal parts shocked and surprised. “You think he’s a fucking rent boy?” He asked, somehow feeling offended on Klaus’ behalf, though he doubted Klaus would’ve taken it as an insult. “You think I _use_ those? You think I’d ever– I’m with you. What the _fuck_.”

Robert met his eyes, looking sheepish. “Sorry. It’ just – it’s the middle of the fucking night, Diego, and you’re calling me to come fix up some _friend_ , when, let me reiterate – you don’t have those. What else am I supposed to assume, huh?”

Diego breathed heavily through his nose. Fuck it. This night was fucked, anyways. His whole life was. “He’s my brother.”

Robert paused in the middle of checking Klaus’ inner elbows, his fingers freezing. “You have a brother?”

Diego grit his teeth. “Four, actually.”

“ _Four?”_

“One’s dead, one’s presumed dead, one’s on the moon. Got two sisters, too. I don’t talk to them much.” He bit his lip. “Before you ask, we’re all adopted. The one you’re currently checking for needle marks is Klaus. And you’ll probably find quite a few.”

Robert licked his lips, then moved to take a drag from the vodka bottle. He set it down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then shook his head a few times and resumed checking said needle marks. “Right. Anything else you wanna tell me?”

Diego thought for a second. “He can talk to the dead.”

Robert scoffed. “Well, of course. And what’s your thing? Being a snarky asshole?”

Diego grinned. “Fuck you.” He flicked his wrist, and the knife he’d been sharpening flew past Robert’s head, snatching an inch from his hair before lodging itself to the wall, where it trembled a little from the impact, but stayed in place.

To his credit, Robert merely rolled his eyes. “So, you’re a snarky, _dramatic_ asshole, and you throw knives real good.”

Diego huffed a laugh, nodding. “Yeah, basically.” He pushed himself off the floor, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “He’s going to be okay?”

“Yeah.” Robert rolled Klaus’ sleeves down and stood up as well. “If he wakes up soon, I’ll be happy. I’ll stay around until that happens.”

“You don’t have to,” Diego protested.

Robert shot him an amused look. “You don’t want your family to meet me?”

Diego made a face. Klaus hadn’t seen him in months – he’d already be confused waking up here, not to mention having Robert hovering beside him. Plus, Klaus was… Klaus. “More like I don’t want you to meet my family. I might be an asshole, but I’m not _evil._ ”

Robert snorted, knocking their shoulders together again. “Alright, come on. Share a glass with me while we wait?”

They got to two glasses each before Klaus’ lids started flickering. Diego paused in the middle of a laugh, and put his glass down, moving to Klaus’ side faster than he would’ve liked to admit.

“Four?” He asked, ignoring Robert’s questioning look. “Klaus?”

Klaus blinked his eyes open, slowly. He moved his hazy gaze to Diego, and frowned. He managed to slur, “The fuck?”, before heaving and coughing up blood on Diego’s already fucked up sheets.

Diego stared at the stains, unimpressed yet vaguely distressed. “From the nose bleed?” He asked.

“Probably,” Robert agreed. “Klaus? How are you feeling? Any dizziness, nausea, a headache?”

Klaus squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. “Yeah, it’s like there’s a whole goddamn marching band inside my skull, having a free-for-all concert. I love a uniform, but this is a bit inconvenient–” He opened his eyes again, finding Diego. “Diego? What the fuck? I thought you were dead, or something.”

Diego frowned. “Why would I be dead?”

Klaus waved a hand flippantly. “Seems like the kind of thing you’d do,” he said, not elaborating further. “Where am I? Why am I there, wherever that is? And do I smell vodka, or is that like… an absurdly tantalizing hallucination?”

Diego gave Robert a look he hoped conveyed, _I told you so_ , before helping Klaus sit up straighter, propped up on pillows. “No vodka before you’re coherent,” he decided. “You’re in my place. I dragged you here after fishing you from behind a garbage can a few blocks over.”

“Ah,” Klaus exclaimed, clicking his tongue. “How very good Samaritan of you, Two.”

Robert looked at Diego with a raised brow and mouthed, _two_? Diego shook his head, making a mental note to explain it later. Unfortunately for him, the interaction drew Klaus’ attention to Robert.

“Doc,” he grinned, looking Robert over with what might’ve been a leer, had he not been so loopy. “How do you do? _Why_ do you do – did – this?”

Robert raised a brow. “If you’re asking me why I fixed you up, it’s because Diego asked.” At Klaus confused look, he continued. “I’ll, uh, find you some pain killers. Diego can… explain whatever he wants.” Robert threw him a meaningful look before retreating further away.

Klaus watched him go until he rounded the corner, then fixed his gaze on Diego, his eyes exaggeratedly wide. “You know a _doctor_?” He whispered, loudly.

Diego dragged a hand across his face. His entire _being_ was beyond exhausted. “He’s a nurse,” he explained. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“A _nurse_ ,” Klaus echoed, amazed. “You should tell me these things, Diego.”

“Why? So you can harass my part-time boyfriend?”

“ _Boyfriend_ ,” Klaus repeated, at the same time as Robert peeked out from behind the corner and asked, “ _Part-time?_ ”

Diego shot Robert a half-hearted glare. “Any luck on those _pain_ _killers_ you were looking for?”

Robert raised his hands in surrender and disappeared.

“You should’ve told me you were bi,” Klaus complained. “Or whatever you are. This is the shit that we could, like, brotherly bond over, you know?”

“We’ve never bonded over anything, brotherly or otherwise.”

“Not true,” Klaus said, and pointed an accusatory finger at Diego. “We’ve bonded plenty over how shitty Father is.”

A small smile quirked on Diego’s lips. “I’ll give you that.” His smile fell, as he eyed Klaus over. “What the fuck happened to you, man?”

Klaus closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillows. “I don’t remember half of it,” he admitted, suddenly appearing more sober than Klaus had seen him in a long time. “Too fucked up on all kinds of shit.”

Diego sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Klaus shrugged, smiling sardonically. “Can’t kill what’s already dead, right? They like me too much, you know. They want my attention. Lonely people,  _ sad _ people, desperate fucking people, asking – begging, really – for me to give them answers to questions I don’t even fucking know.  They need me, and so I stay alive, but it’s not really worth it, is it?” He opened his eyes, looking at Diego with a haunted expression. “Is it?”

Diego hesitated, then placed his hand on Klaus’. His skin was cold. “I don’t have the answers, either,” he said. “But this has to stop. You have to get sober.”

“Sober,” Klaus mumbled. His lids were getting droopy. “I can never…” He looked a little to Diego’s right, focusing on nothing. “No, it’s fine, 'm not killing myself. I’m just gonna nap. Yeah, yes – no, I’m not dying. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

Diego frowned. “Klaus?”

Klaus laughed weakly. “It’s all fine. It’s good. We’re good. Diego’s part-time boyfriend’s taking care of me.” He snickered at the idea. “ _Noooo_ , Ben, don’t be like that–”

Diego followed Klaus’ gaze, then looked back at Klaus, leaning closer to him, gently shaking his arm. “Ben? What are you talking about? Ben’s dead, Klaus.”

“Yes,” Klaus agreed, looking amused. “He’s very bad at it.”

Then his eyes fell shut, and after a few seconds, he started snoring softly.

Robert came back some minutes later, and found Klaus sleeping, tucked under a clean blanket. Diego was on the floor, drinking, staring at him with a mildly distraught expression.

“Diego?” Robert asked, stepping closer. 

Diego took a gulp, the alcohol sloshing around the bottle. “Thank you. Really. I owe you a big one, Robert.”

Robert shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said, worry creeping around his chest. Diego looked like shit. “Can I… Do you want me to stay?”

Diego was silent for a while. Then he patted the spot next to him. “Take a seat. We might catch the sunrise.”

Robert sat down, taking the bottle when Diego offered it. “Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. “I think we might.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ wilderogers!


End file.
